It has been a minute since I have written, hasn’t it? I can hardly believe that it has been eight months since my release as a missionary and my return home. Although my heart was shattered into a million shards leaving my beloved Italy, I was ready to return home. I was tired, emotionally and spiritually exhausted, though eighteen months of insomnia and sleepless nights did not begin to compare to the fatigue I felt inwardly. Loving people as deeply and completely that you do as a missionary is not an elementary task. Needless to say at the end of my service I was ready to come home and watch the windows of heaven open to open and pour me out the blessings so that there would not be room enough to receive them (Malachi 3:10).

This is how I figured it must be. I had just devoted 18 months of my young and precious life to the service of the Lord. All of the sacrifices made, all of the trial, tribulation and torment suffered would be equalized with post-mission blessings, right? It only made sense that this is how it would be.

And then I came home. For about a month it seemed like all of the blessings that I anticipated were coming to fruition (shout out to Matt for getting me hooked on this word). The less six months of my mission I had received very specific, personal instruction on the things that I needed to make priority upon my return. Suddenly and very quickly, these things began to materialize in my life and I was head over heels with the course of events.

Just as quickly they all vanished. It seemed as if the Lord had removed his ever-present hand and turned his face from my life. Every single person close to me was experiencing heartbreak in extreme forms and I felt as if I were treading water, attempting to keep all of my loved ones dry and above the darkest of waters while my own heart was broken in a way I had never previously experienced.

In many ways I have healed and have become stronger. In other ways I am still fighting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. In some ways I am learning to let go, and in other ways I still hold onto what could have been. Regardless of the many moments of digression, progression and agitation felt in the last 8 months there is one thing I am sure –

Life goes on.

So, here’s to life. Here’s to going with it and cheers to choosing to find joy in the journey.

Christine Marie